


A Tale of Two Idiots

by DoubledDoors



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-07-06 04:33:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15878625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubledDoors/pseuds/DoubledDoors
Summary: A collection of short drabbles, all featuring Wilson and Maxwell, mostly together, and mostly being less than intelligent.





	1. Maxwell Starves Like an Idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell finds himself alone in the woods with nothing and his stomach and no sign of food. Wilson helps him not die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 10/19

All Maxwell could think about was food. The warm tufts of grass around him swirled into a sickening mix of orange and yellow, in some places shooting up into white streaks of birch bark. His innards were twisting mercilessly, spurring him on in his desperate attempt to find something, _anything_ to soothe the ache. His head felt light, yet his limbs were leaden, his steps sudden and halting. He felt ill, dizzy—from what, he didn’t know. Maxwell felt like a goddamn animal, driven by a primal feeling instead of some higher thought, and he seethed about this fact silently as he wandered the forest.

A bird landed nearby suddenly, pecking at a small mound of seeds in the dirt, and Maxwell all but threw himself at it, scaring it away before it could eat more than a few. The seeds went down with difficulty, plain and sticking to his dry throat, and were as noticeable as a raindrop in the ocean. His stomach whined and Maxwell realized he was going to starve.

Out of all the things he’d survived this time around—hounds, forest fires, spiders, and werepigs—his own organs were about to do him in. Feverishly, he rubbed at his stomach, hoping that it would just go away, _this_ would just go away, this stupid, insufferable pain that was sapping him of his own existence.

“Maxwell—! Good grief, what’s happened to you?” called a voice from somewhere a few meters away. Wilson. Fantastic.

“Higgsbury,” he said, although it came out more of a distressed whine than he was comfortable with.

“What’s happened? Are you ill?” Wilson asked again, glancing the man over. He didn’t look anything but exhausted.

Maxwell shook his head, regretting it immediately upon getting a nauseating headrush. “Erg, no. It’s none of your concern regardless,” he started, ready to tell Wilson off before his gut growled at an embarrassingly loud volume. He scowled and glared at Wilson, hoping to deter the man from saying anything more.

“Oh, Max,” Wilson said to Maxwell’s dismay, looking relieved that it wasn’t anything big, “Here, I’ve got a pack full of food here, you doof. Definitely enough to fill you right up.”

“I don’t need your help,” Maxwell snapped, leaning away. Yet, the second Wilson took the sack of food out and the tantalizing smell hit him, he felt his mouth fill with saliva and his stomach give an eager jerk. Despite everything in him telling him he was going to act unsightly, he couldn’t help himself and crumbled, glancing over at Wilson’s face hopefully.

Other words were said, something of a rambling attempt at conversation from the scientist, but Maxwell could hardly process it over the smell of the jerky Wilson handed him, wolfing down piece after piece. Vaguely, he was sure he heard Wilson tell him to slow down, but _god,_ the man had a sandwich on him as well, and that went down as easily as the jerky had in between large gulps of cool water. He only stopped once there was nothing left, and finally looked up at Wilson, panting softly.

He felt rather foolish, he’d certainly outdone himself after going days with only eating handfuls of seeds and berries—he’d heard people use the phrase “stuffed to the brim” and he hazarded a guess this is what they meant. It was certainly an odd sensation—he felt sure he’d vomit if he ate another bite, but at the same time content and suddenly very drowsy.

“Well,” Wilson said, looking mildly surprised, “I wasn’t aware you had an appetite.” There was a pause in which Maxwell only grunted before Wilson pat his back, getting the man to cover his mouth with a fist and belch. Wilson snorted, “You alright, there?”

“I’m perfectly fine, Wilson,” Maxwell grumbled, though he leaned into the touch ever so slightly. He felt a hand on his cheek—rough from years of labor—and looked up cautiously, finding Wilson’s grinning face. “...What?” he asked, scowling, “I’m _fine,_ Higgsbury. I don’t need your help.”

That got a chuckle out of Wilson. “Oh, don’t ‘Higgsbury’ me, _pal,”_ he said, taking Maxwell’s face in both hands as he spoke. “And stop being grumpy so much, it gives you wrinkles, y’know.”

The gap between them closed quickly, too quickly for Maxwell to process anything but Wilson’s chapped lips on his own and hands in his hair. He reciprocated immediately, a soft noise of approval weaseling its way out of his lungs.

“Hey,” Wilson said, suddenly pulling back and catching Maxwell as he leaned to follow, “I didn’t get a thank you. Rather rude of you, isn't it? Don’t know if you deserve my kisses, Carter.”

Maxwell huffed out an indignant sigh between labored pants—it was rather hard to breathe around seven pieces of jerky. “Thank you, Wilson,” he grumbled moodily.

“See, that wasn’t so hard!” Wilson said, grinning cheekily, “Now, how about we get your sorry rear back to camp?”

Maxwell winced at the thought of trekking back to their camp in this state, overfed and admittedly somewhat aroused by Wilson’s shoddy attempt at a kiss. “Erm, I...I’d really rather not,” he managed.

Wilson must’ve seen the grimace on Maxwell’s face, for he burst out laughing. “No?” he said, “We can settle here for tonight then. I’ve a bedroll anyways.”


	2. Maxwell Passes Out Drunk Like an Idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilson and Maxwell get tipsy and intimate...only for Maxwell to pass out drunk.

Wilson frowned, shaking the man's shoulder. "Max. Maxwell. Did you honestly just black out on me?" he grumbled, trying to untangle himself from the other, "C'mon, you sod, you've got your clothes half off and your hand down my pants." Maxwell snored softly in reply and Wilson groaned, rubbing his eyes.

There was a few moments of nothing but gentle silence, and Wilson wiped drool from the corner of Maxwell's mouth. He smiled at the man's peaceful expression, and separated himself for a moment to change into what had more or less become sleepwear. Stretching, Wilson glanced over at Maxwell, then decided changing him as well would be wise.

It took a few minutes of awkward struggling, but Wilson finally managed the task and grinned proudly before burying under the woolen blankets they'd made. He scooted over to Maxwell, holding him gently, and made sure the other was completely covered by blankets before letting his eyes close.


	3. Maxwell and Wilson Get Deep Like Idiots

Wilson had expected a night of gentle cuddling and sweet nothings—it was pouring outside their tent and the rain made for a relaxing white noise. But things never turned out how Wilson expected them to. At least not with Maxwell.

It had started normal enough: the two had enter the tent soaking and they'd quickly thrown their clothes into the corner before they caught anything. Too tired to care about drying off, they'd sunk into the woolen blankets and heavenly soft handmade mattress. There was no heavy petting, no kisses, nothing but silently enjoying each other's company as they stared at the roof of the tent. Then Maxwell spoke.

"Wilson...I've been meaning to tell you this for a long time now. I love you."

Wilson had furrowed his brow in confusion and turned his head to look at the other man. "What? That's nothing new, Max, we've been saying 'I love you' for quite some time now."

"No, I know," Maxwell started, then trailed off, deep in thought. Wilson let him have himself and waited patiently for more. "But I _love_ you, Wilson, it's not...it's _real,_ it's not like what I had with Charlie. It's tangible and real—I want to hold it with both hands tightly and never let go. It's just a wonder that I met you and you're...you're...not a woman." The last part was awkward and hesitant, Maxwell looking confused, as if his own words were beyond what he was thinking.

"Homosexual?" Wilson supplied, turning onto his side.

"Well...well, I suppose, but that's such an awful word... I've not wanted to think about being ill for some time now."

"Eh, why care, Max? It's not as if anyone can stop us. If there is a god to smite us, then he must have already done so, seeing as we're in hell," Wilson drawled, lazily tracing a finger over Maxwell's chest.

The magician sighed and took Wilson's hand into his own gingerly. "You're probably right. I'd just hate to lose you, you know. After all...this. Us."

“You won’t,” Wilson replied, tugging the blankets up to Maxwell’s chin, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know,” Maxwell mumbled, turning to Wilson. He softly buried his face in the crook of the man’s neck. “Just...promise me you’ll stay.”

“I promise.”


	4. Two Idiots Get Married

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilson proposes to Maxwell after they've been living back in society for a while. That's it.

"Hey, Max," came Wilson's voice as he stepped through the doorway, and Maxwell turned to look at the man.

"Yes, Wilson?" he asked, pushing his glasses up his nose with a finger, the other hand resting absently on the pot of stew he'd been attempting to make.

"I've been meaning to ask you something," the scientist started, a cheeky grin on his face. Maxwell narrowed his eyes and was about to ask a question himself before Wilson got down on one knee with a grunt.

"What are y—" Maxwell's voice caught in his throat as Wilson clumsily pulled a metal band out of his pocket, holding it out to the magician. Although undoubtedly handmade, that was clear enough from the poor quality, it made something squeeze tight in Maxwell's chest. He couldn't possibly mean—

"Maxwell Something Carter," Wilson said, clear and proud, chest puffed out, "Will you marry me?"

Maxwell knew he must look ridiculous, jaw hanging a bit before pointlessly moving as he tried to form thoughts, let alone words. Wilson wanted to...to marry _him?_ Surely there was a mistake, there had to have been, maybe Wilson was high, or drunk or both, or—

"...Max?"

The magician met Wilson's eyes, which had quickly become concerned, and he knew somewhere deep in him Wilson hadn't made a mistake. He really—!

"Yes!" he blurted out, and stumbled down into Wilson, throwing his arms around the man tightly, "God, yes, Wilson! 'Til death do us part, I swear it!"

Wilson laughed at that, and rubbed Maxwell's back. "Through sickness and health and drunken states of idiocy," he added, and Maxwell could feel the man's smile against his skin.


	5. Long Time No See, Scientist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been weeks since Wilson left to gather resources, and Maxwell can only hope he's not dead.

Maxwell had never felt more nervous in his life. Over the past week, his chest had felt tight, his nerves frayed and useless to do anything but make him jump, and he'd lost a few pounds swiftly. Wilson would be mad. If he wasn't dead.

Winter had sprung on them quicker then they'd anticipated, and the two had found themselves freezing and without a stable food supply. The rock fields were far away, and with no thermal stones or real warm clothes, they couldn't do much but wait to die. So, Wilson had taken the vest they'd made and took off, telling Maxwell he'd be back before four days. Those four days had come and gone, and Maxwell wasn't sure what to do.

Should he go out and look for the man? Stay here, and feed off the sparse rabbits and seeds, keeping his back to the fire? He wasn't sure. All he knew was that he was miserably sick with worry about Wilson's wellbeing. An unfortunate thing.

In fact, he'd been roasting a bit of rabbit on a stake when he'd heard the snow crunching a good thirty meters away, loud in the dead silence of the woods. Maxwell had turned so fast his back straightened out suddenly, each segment popping harshly back into place. "Wilson?" The hesitant question had come out before he could stop it, revoltingly desperate and hopeful.

"Max!" Wilson answered cheerfully, and Maxwell grinned despite himself, standing immediately, "Did you miss me, you big sop?"

Maxwell let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, practically running into Wilson as he slipped on the frigid ice coating the floor. "Gah—! Oof, sorry. Haven't had time to melt it. It's been quite cold, you see," he said somewhat mockingly, and Wilson chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah. Here," Wilson handed Maxwell a bundle of clothes and the thermal stone he'd promised, "Pelt, hat, scarf, and stone," he finished, counting off the items on his fingers, “You’ll be set for the winter.”

Maxwell found himself smiling like a lunatic, not about the clothes but about the man handing them to him. He didn't know why...well, no, he did. He was _scared_ to admit why to himself. It was as if the second he thought it, he would lose it.

Wilson smiled softly up at him. "You did miss me, huh?" he said, gently teasing.

"Huh? What makes you think that?" Maxwell said, startled. He cursed himself, responding like that was making him obvious.

"You're pretty obvious," Wilson said, raising an eyebrow. It wasn't fair that Wilson could read him so well.

"Only a little," he grumbled, "I didn't miss you being a snarky brat." He sudden arms around him surprised him, and he startled. "Wilson...?" he managed, tense.

"What, can't handle a hug?" Wilson said, looking up at him, "Pity. I guess I'll not try it ag—"

"NO—! Er— No. I can...handle a hug," Maxwell stammered out, holding Wilson awkwardly tight.

How long had it been since someone had hugged him? Maxwell tried to remember, and could only come up with years as a tentative answer. He relaxed a bit as Wilson hesitantly rubbed his back. He could get used to it. It’d just take time.

**Author's Note:**

> Want to request something? Send me a message @/rettrohazard on Tumblr!


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